


Lost Silver "Retold"

by Akumageist



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24585490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumageist/pseuds/Akumageist
Summary: Pet project I've been working on for a year for the 10th anniversary of this terrible creepypasta. I wanted it to be portrayed from Gold's POV, as though he lives through a fever dream.
Kudos: 9





	Lost Silver "Retold"

My eyes peel open groggily, and I’m hit with that early morning exhaustion of just wanting to roll back over. I must have slept like shit. I rub my eyes and grumble, wondering what even woke me up if I’m this poorly rested. I sigh and look up at the ceiling. That’s… not my ceiling.

What the fuck?

I sit up in mild panic, now fully awake. I… kind of have a reputation for getting into shit I shouldn’t. Scanning my eyes across the room, I know where I am. I’d know it anywhere.

I’m in Sprout Tower, lying on the wooden floor.

Or rather… this  _ should  _ be Sprout Tower, but this room isn’t one I’ve ever been in. I furrow my brow and begin to stand up. On top of not recognizing the room, I don’t remember getting here, or what I was doing last. Thinking about it hurts my head in a throbbing headache sort of way. That’s weird, but whatever. I’ll figure it out eventually.

I head towards the wall and begin to skirt it, looking for any hidden cracks that may be where I entered. It’s the same as it’s always been- old and dusty with traditional wooden beam support. Needless to say, it doesn’t seem to be holding any secrets. But there’s  _ gotta  _ be a way out of here. I got  _ in _ , didn’t I?

I go to check my bag, and find it completely empty. I flip through the pockets, even unzip the compartments I seldom use, but to no avail. Not even a speck of dirt in sight. Goddammit. I’m really all alone in this hotbox without any tools or Pokemon. 

Wait, I’ll just call someone, _ doi. _

I flip open my PokeGear, but the screen is black. I forgot to charge it, didn’t I? I grunt in distaste, and drop my arm to my side. This seems to be my unlucky day. But I’m  _ usually  _ a lucky guy, so who cares? I love a good challenge. I put my hands on my hips and exhale heavily, sweeping my eyes over the room again. 

The pillar isn’t moving.

I can’t believe I didn’t notice that first, actually. It’s one of the creepiest things about this damn place. I must have missed it in my lack of literally all outside contact. Whatever. Point is, I’ve got it now. I make a lap around it to see what might keep it from moving (out of curiosity, I guess) and there’s a sudden wider opening in the back. It’s big enough for me to fit. Is  _ this _ how I got in here? But I can’t see anything in it.

I look around the room again. There really doesn’t seem to be any other option but to see where this slot might go. I sit down, and let my legs dangle in it. The temperature is noticeably cooler, and I don’t feel a bottom. What choice do I have?

.

.

.

I’m falling.

It’s dark all around me, and if not for the pit in my stomach and the wind in my hair, I wouldn’t even know.

Miraculously, I wind up unharmed at the bottom. When I attempt to see where I am now, it’s like I didn’t even open my eyes. It’s black as piss. The air down here smells dry, but it’s still thick and musky. It’s got a weird sour smell to it, too. A sharp, chirping noise breaks the atmosphere, and goosebumps ripple across my skin. It’s… familiar.

....It’s my radio!

It’s the unsettling static it makes when it loses signal. But why is it playing now, if it was dead a minute ago?  _ Yikes  _ with a capital Y. I fumble for the buttons again, hitting any of the ones I feel, but now the damn thing won’t turn  _ off _ .

I should probably focus on getting out of here, anyway. The sooner, the better. If I can’t even see an inch in front of my nose, I’d better not just fucking traipse around down here. Crawling on the ground, as horrid as it sounds, is probably my best option at this point. Honestly, I’m not sure if I  _ should  _ even move, but I slowly lower myself to the ground anyway.

The floor is cold and uneven, like unfinished stone. I shuffle onward, hoping there’s no sudden drop or anything worse on the floor in here. I guess I spoke too soon, because I place my hand directly into lukewarm wetness and paralyze in disgust. I slowly lift my hand to my face anyway and sniff warily. It smells iron-y. Blood…? Oh,  _ wonderful! _

I cautiously paw in front of me, looking for the potential source. It’s probably not the best idea, but what do I have to lose? If it’s an Ursaring, I hope it kills me fast. My hand lands on something furry, with more of what I’m assuming is blood caked on it. The thing jolts in alarm and catches fire.

A Cyndaquil?!

My moment of relief is  _ just _ a moment, as my stomach nearly jumps out of my throat at the sight of the little guy. He’s heaving, with barely enough energy to have his flame lit. He’s got horrible deep gashes in his side, and they’re spelling out “HURRY”.

I look at “Hurry” in pity. I don’t think he’s going to make it, but… I scoop up the little dude and hold him like how I used to hold Bakutaro. I look around the dimly lit room. It’s fairly large, but nothing’s in it. The walls are stone like the floor, and are leaking some sort of red stain down them. What kind of hellhole  _ am  _ I in? Has this always been under Sprout Tower? No wonder I got the spooks from that place,  _ yeesh _ .

Now I can see there’s a doorway with a hall in front of me. It’s long and dark, and I can’t see the end. The shadows on the wall grow and shrink with Hurry’s fire, beckoning me forward. And with the fucking lost signal chirp still echoing off them, it’s not exactly inviting. 

Even so, I head down the corridor, feeling up and down the stone walls to make sure there are no hidden doors along the way. This trek is excruciatingly long, and I can’t see the room I fell into anymore. It’s almost as if I’m going to walk forever.

Up on the wall to my right something shines like an eye. A shiver runs up my spine and I jump back, only to realize it’s five Unown. As I approach closer, I notice red stain seeping from behind them, and that their eyes are dull and lifeless. They’ve been somehow nailed into the wall.

L E A V E

Maybe this is all some sick joke. I’ll probably find some weird ass Giratina worshippers at the end of all this, chanting in black robes. I laugh audibly at the thought. Not that I really have a choice in “leaving”, I’m kind of stuck here.

“ _ Nice try _ , assholes. I’d leave if I could! If you know the way out, be sure to lemme know!” I scoff.

The light on the cave walls is shrinking, and I notice Hurry’s fire is burning out. I frown. I feel awful, but there’s nothing I can do. The radio’s making me want to just go fucking hog wild as it is, but if I have to wander around in this murky darkness again… I’ll straight up off myself.

Just as it’s beginning to get to that state, I notice there’s an opening into a new room. I exhale in relief and quicken my pace. Hurry’s fire is just smolders, and I feel the warmth leaving his body. I shamefully put him in the corner of the new room. It’s not like I could do anything. He was dying when I found him. It isn’t my fault.

Looking around, my scenery hasn’t adjusted much, and nothing is in this room except a strange professional-made sign in the center. 

“TURN BACK NOW”

More edgy decor, huh? I can’t help but remember what is actually behind me, which is an empty room with no exit, that I fell into from yet another empty room with no exit. _ No thank you _ , Giratina Teens, I think my best option at this point is to keep going forward, no matter what shit may be there.

Suddenly, everything goes completely dark again.

...Hurry’s gone. The pang of guilt and sadness washes over me at the realization of it. I frown. Just as quickly as he goes out, light erupts into the room again. But Hurry just died, so what gives? My eyes shoot to the corner where I left him to double check, and I feel the hairs on my arms rise under my sweatshirt.

_ Hurry’s corpse is completely engulfed in flames. _

I thought that Typhlos “erupting” was just a child’s tale... I shudder and drag my eyes back to the corridor. It’s morbid, but his burning corpse is keeping my way lit. The Unown Radio hasn’t stopped either, just in case my nerves were in any way easing. I want to take off my PokéGear, but what if it starts working again, and I need it?

I turn and start to head back up the tunnel, seeing as there’s nothing else down here. Two seconds in, I stop abruptly. The original room at the other end of the hall’s entrance is getting farther away.

**What.**

As I put one foot in front of the  _ fucking _ other, the room at the end of the hall is distancing as if I’m… walking backwards? If I stop, it stops. If I walk forward, it grows further again. All I know is none of this feels real. Like my brain is screaming at me that I need to _ wake up. _

I’m... dreaming?

I mean… that makes the most sense of all that’s happened. So I think dream logic. If when I move forward, I go backwards,  _ theoretically _ , if I walk backwards, I  _ should  _ go forwards? It’s worth a shot. Anything to get me away from Hurry’s corpse at this point, honestly. Heel, foot. Heel, foot.

_ Sure enough _ , it’s like I’m walking forwards in a normal situation. I groan in disbelief, but dreams be fucky, I guess. So I slowly but surely continue down this fucking long-ass corridor  _ backwards _ , now. Is it like some sort of fever dream? Wonder what kind of bullshit drug I must’ve eaten to put me in  _ this _ kind of nightmare.

Not long into creeping backwards up this endless hallway, I start feeling sick to my stomach. I stop, but the pain is still there. I try to walk it off, but it’s only getting worse. I’m at the point where I’m hobbling and the room is spinning. I can’t walk straight, and am fighting to keep myself upright. I’m open-mouth panting, and my hands are shaking like mad. I can’t keep this up, I’m going to pass out.

I crash against the wall and vomit. The fluid that comes out turns my blood cold. It’s thick and goopy. This isn’t bile- I don’t even think it’s blood. I shakily bring my fingers to my lips. It’s too dark to see what this substance is, but It’s not like I drank a bunch of Muk before coming here. It doesn’t relieve the feeling in the slightest.

...I hate to say it, but even though this seems like a dream world, I can’t help but think it’s as real as it gets.

I drag myself off the wall and push onwards. I really don’t have a choice. The only thought swimming around my brain is  _ “get out of here!”  _ like some cheesy horror flick. I really wish this damn thing wasn’t so long. I’ve got my shoulder pressed against the wall and I’m wheezing, the gunk just pooling out of my mouth, occasionally being forced out by my writhing tongue. I think I might die in here, for fuck’s sake. You die in your dreams, you die in real life? I wish I could just laugh it off.

What seems to be forever later, I somehow make it back to the room at the end of the hallway. It’s  _ seemingly  _ the same one I started in, except now there’s stairwell in the far left corner! I’ve never been so stoked to see a goddamn staircase in my entire life. I limp quickly over to it, relieved to see my scenery is changed, even if just slightly. I stumble down the stairs, only to wish I hadn’t.

The walls of this room are made out of some horrible, pink… I can’t describe it as anything other than raw flesh. It’s lumpy and pulsing in some areas, complete with veins and discolored patches. It looks like the whole room is a fetus. The throbbing, almost-alive walls are making me feel claustrophobic, and I’m almost too traumatized by my eyes to walk forward.

I don’t have the option to turn around anymore anyway, because the staircase has reverted back into a wall. I guess I’ve  _ really _ gotta be committed to going forward, now.  _ Wow _ , what a  _ great _ dream this is! Almost as good as that wet dream I had about Red.

I begin to creep through the maze cautiously, peering around the walls as if the owner of this horrible flesh prison will be there. I’m trying to make my way through it as quickly as possible in hopes that maybe my luck will change, but you can only go so fast on a stomach full of schmuck. At least I’m not vomiting as much, eh?

Eventually, I reach the end, and there’s another set of stairs. I’m about to unthinkingly head down them, when I notice they just fucking drop off. Just like the slot I fell through to get here, it’s just empty darkness. At this point, I can’t even bring myself to care. I’m too desperate to put space between myself and the raw skin walls. I sit quickly down and swing my legs over. It’s just as empty as the last, too. Like an airy abyss, as if someone didn’t finish their dungeon. I try and take a deep breath, but I can hear how shaky it actually is on the exhale.

_ Hey, it’s just a dream. Lighten up. You’ll just get that stupid falling feeling, and then wind up at the bottom, unharmed again as before. Best case scenario, the falling scares you awake! _

I’m running these words through my mind, but my body isn’t catching on. I grumble in annoyance with my own tensing muscles. I’ve never had a dream so attuned to my fear, honestly. Usually I think I’m invincible in dreams, and just do the next task without question. But this dream… I feel myself being more… unsure of myself...? Anxious...? I dunno, man. Finally, I push off into the even deeper pit. I wonder how much deeper I can even go. I must be really far underground already.

This time, I don’t even feel the fall. I just suddenly have ground beneath my feet, and feel a harsh change in temperature. It’s freezing. But it’s a natural, windy cold, rather than some creep’s basement with no light or doors. And... it’s eerily silent. My radio’s finally stopped! My stomach’s feeling better as well, thankfully. I guess it wasn’t some fucked up Giratina Worshippers’ prank, and it really must be a dream.

When I look up from my feet, Red is standing directly in front of me. But just as quickly as I noticed him, he’s gone. It’s almost as if he was never there in the first place. To fit with Red being in front of me, I look around and recognize the scenery immediately. I’m apparently at Mt. Silver. I reach up to rub my eyes, and I go stiff.

There’s just skin.

I frantically run my fingers along my face. Nose, mouth, eyebrows, ears… I even have eyeballs, but there’s no eyelid for them to open. My breath starts to escalate alongside my heartbeat.

I want to scream, but I’m too afraid to. 

_ Ugh. Chill, dude. It’s a dream. Shit’s not even possible, so why are you so worked up about it? _

It seems everything in this dream is programmed to set me on edge in the most morbid sense of the word. Am I tripping?? Note to self, if I wake up higher than Tin Tower, I’m never doing drugs again.

I begin to start in a generally “good” direction, when I hear a grunt coming from just beyond my line of sight. I pause. I know Pokemon live here, but the only Pokemon I’ve seen this far was Hurry, so…. Yeah. The growling is familiar, though.

Sure enough, out saunters a Typhlosion. And… it’s missing eyes too. There’s just skin and fur, as if they never existed in the first place, just like me. It also looks awkwardly fat. Is she pregnant? I don’t have much time to debate, because she’s clearly hostile. The second she notices my presence, she blazes her flame and roars, pawing at the ground in dominance.

Instinctively, I hold my hands up in protest. “Easy girl, I’m not lookin’ for any trouble.” I say, as if I can talk her out of mauling me.

She clearly doesn’t want to bargain, and barrels towards me. I panic and dive forward down the slope, skidding right onto my stomach and scraping my hands like I always did as a kid. I flip over in a second, stumbling backwards over my own aching palms as she continues her pursuit.

She roars again and leaps, and I’m trying to scramble away, but the snow and pure fear of a raging Typhlo is winning the battle. Just as I think it’s over for me, I hear loud crackling from above. I look up just in time to see some freakishly huge icicles have broken off from the cave ceiling. I sprung to my feet to jump out of the way, skidding sloppily to the cave floor again.

I made it just in time and hear the ice crumble deafeningly behind me. I look back to see what exactly occurred, and the icicles have completely shattered like glass to the ground. Amongst the wreckage, bright pink and red innards vibrantly staining the snowy surroundings.

Oh, sweet  _ fucking  _ Arceus.

The Typhlosion was completely severed by the icicles, somehow perfectly through her torso, and her organs are just, splattered everywhere. I spy her front half still seizing, still snapping wildly and her claws are still flexing, as if she had some urge yet to fight. It’s such a repulsive, tragic sight. I feel the bile rising in my throat, and have to catch myself.

She opens her mouth, and I swear she cried out “please…!”

I… think I’m going to need therapy if I remember this dream.

Finally, her muscles relax and she goes limp. I notice something pulsing in her organs that gives me a sort of disturbed curiosity. I approach slowly, as if she’s somehow faking being torn in half.

There’s... an egg peeking out of her ripped uterus. It looks fully formed, like she should have had it in a few weeks, or even days maybe. Is that why she was trying to attack me? To defend her new baby? That just makes matters worse. Some part of me is tempted to grab the egg. Like I owe it to her to see that he has a fighting chance at life. I creep closer towards the carcass.

It’s revolting. Even in a dream, I find myself disturbed at the sight. But it doesn’t matter, it’s just another putrid event in this nightmare, and it’ll pass just like the rest did. I crouch down and eye the flap partially covering the egg. I pinch my fingers and go to pull it off.

Ew.

Fuck, man.

Shit’s nasty.

This little bastard better be grateful, dammit! Why’d I decide to do this again?!

With some mental coaxing to my hesitant fingers, I finally roll the egg out of the uterus pocket, and sigh in relief. I shuffle my feet a little closer so I can grab the egg with both hands, and stumble away from the corpse hastily, exhausted by how much energy that took. I look back into the cave. I can see my breath, and it dawns on me this little guy’s gonna need to stay warm if he has any hope of being premature.

So I tuck him in my jacket and head north, hoping my inner map can work its magic. As I walk down the path, the ice rocks begin to look too intricate, as if placed there deliberately. My eyes trace it carefully, looking for a potential meaning. They’re…. more unown.

D E N Y

If “leave” in the tunnel had to do with the sign, what the hell is  _ this  _ supposed to mean? Deny? Deny  _ what? _ There’s really nothing around here that ties into it, so I guess I just have to brush it off and keep going. I mean, even if it does mean something, I still can’t really do anything about it. I begrudgingly continue on my way. It takes a bit of work and freezing fingers, but I manage to get past the chilliest part of the mountainous cave.

In an outside cliff area, there’s an incredibly fake sounding water noise. I look at the surrounding lakes, but the water is completely still. There’s no flow, and it looks like it was in mid-wave. Like an old video game with bad graphics. Albeit, It’s a little unnerving.

The egg in my jacket starts wobbling.

For serious?!

I gently pull him out, and sure enough, a little muzzle is peaking its way through the thick shell. What a happy little moment in my otherwise fucked up dream, eh? I hold the egg gently in my hands as the new Cyndaquil pushes his way out. When he’s fully emerged, I toss the eggshell and huddle the little guy closer. I just wish he wasn’t born into such a cruel environment. 

When I exited the mountain at last, I’m in a warmer, more suburban place. It’s clearly not Route 28. It’s got grass, some trees….

...And half of a house.

Just like the stairs, it’s as if someone just stopped building it mid-way. The wood tapers off into murky whiteness, and where the house ceases to exist, so does anything else. It’s just blank whitespace. It feels empty, and energy sapping. The lack of anything doesn’t feel like a panic-inducing emotion as one may imagine. It’s just… a hollow, tragic feeling. When I look into it, I almost feel...despair? I drag my eyes away.

I walk a little ways, and see, of all people,  _ Silver _ with his Feraligatr. This is the first other real person in my dream, so I can’t lie. I practically ran to the dude in relief.

That is, until I get closer to him.

He was  _ also _ eyeless, and so’s his Feraligatr. The minute I opened my mouth to speak, he quickly turned away, as if he didn’t want to acknowledge me. But apparently his Feraligatr did, as he turned and snarled. He could apparently see without eyes, too. I backed up warily and held the cyndaquil close. 

You know, I don’t really believe dreams mean anything. But this time, I’d really like to know what No One having eyes means,  _ thanks _ .

The Feraligatr stepped towards me, baring its teeth and ready to fight. Where would I go? There was an endless pond beyond us, and which of us is the better swimmer? Just when I thought this dream would end in the jaws of my shitty friend’s Feraligatr, the Cyndaquil jumped out of my arms. They begin to square off like we’re in a fight.

Oh.

The Feraligatr was trying to battle  _ him _ .

I tried calling my Cyndaquil back, but my mouth won’t open, like my lips are glued shut. I  _ hate  _ those dreams. Suddenly, the fucking Feraligatr collapses into the grass. He looks out cold, but the cyndaquil didn’t even make a move. I could run, but I can’t just leave him here. My Pokedex buzzes.

“ Used NIGHTMARE!”

It looks as though my Cyndaquil had made that move.

The Feraligatr starts thrashing on the ground wildly. He’s jolting so violently, I wonder what this attack is possibly doing to him. I guess giving him a “nightmare”? If it’s anything like the one I’m in, I feel for ya, bud. I look at my Pokedex and notice it one-hit KOed the damn thing.

But just before the Feraligatr was deemed unable to battle, it spazzed out one last time. I nearly jumped out of my skin as the body begins to snap and distort itself into freakish, broken positions, weirdly caving in on itself to a smaller form.

It’s… a totodile.

Then it just melts away into the ground, leaving no trace. I look at Silver, in hope of some reaction, but he’s just “looking” into the endless pond.

Silver turns to face me finally.

“Even…” Comes a voice as cold as the mountain I just came from.

Then he blipped out like Red did. I shake my head and scoop my Cyndaquil up. Despite not getting hurt in battle, he isn’t looking too good. I look back at the pond, and then back at Mt. Silver. I guess my only option is to go back to the cave, right? Just as I get to the opening, I feel the world spin sideways and I hit the ground, blacking out.

When I open my eyes, I’m in… Goldenrod.

Then I realized the muscles I just used. I practically flung my hand up to my face. Sure enough, my physical eyes were back. But there was no time for relief, because now there was wetness coming from them. Was I crying? I wiped some of the substance and found it to be alarmingly sticky, and on my fingers was red smear.

I was… crying tears of blood?

I try and ignore it, looking ahead. I love this damn city; I  _ live  _ here. If I were awake, I’d want nothing more than to be dicking around down here. But now, I almost dread what it has in store. The sky is a smoggy brown like it’s dark out. There aren’t any lights to illuminate anything, but the towering buildings loom over me like ghosts, as if the moon is casting directly on this street. But, there isn’t any moon. There aren’t even any stars. The city seems so… dead.

My Cyndaquil’s still in my arms, thankfully, and I hold him close.

I look ahead of me, and see a bunch of people lined up on the mainstreet. It’s… people I know. Professor Oak, Professor Elm, all the Gym Leaders, Elite Four, and even my mom. They’re all in white kimonos, and just staring blankly ahead as if they’re waiting for something.

As if they’re waiting for  _ me _ .

I cautiously take a step.

All their heads whip to face me menacingly, and I feel my blood run cold. Despite not having eyes, I can feel their glare boring holes into my skull. I freeze for a good minute in ponder of what all these people might mean in this heinous dream, but they make no additional movement. Slowly, I begin to walk forward again. It’s like this gloomy cloud is hanging over me. I feel dreary and tired being here.

...Speaking of being tired of places, how long is this dream going to take, exactly? I’m fucking  _ tired  _ of its foul mood.

The first person in line is Professor Elm. He’s pale as fuck, like he hasn’t seen the sun in years, and his cheeks and eye sockets are sunken in.

“Professor Elm, I-“

But before the words could finish leaving my mouth, the professor opened his own. Something… was inside of it.

An unown was crawling out of Prof. Elm’s mouth.

The awkward round shape stretching his lips, and the appendages pulling itself out like a spinarak. I wanted so badly to look away, but I couldn’t help and watch in horror. It was… A “W”. It hung there on his chin for a minute, before dropping off and raising to float above his head.

“Who are you, kid?” He asked in a flat tone, as if this Pokemon didn’t just fucking pull its way out of his mouth.

“Wh- I’m  _ Gold _ , professor. What do you mean ‘who am I?’ You  _ know _ me!” I laugh.

He just “stared” past me in reply.

“Hey, Prof. It’s  _ me _ , Gold. What the fuck are you saying?”

“Who are you, kid?”

“Hello??” I impulsively grab the man’s shoulders and shake him vigorously, and he’s just as deadweight as a life-size doll. “Earth to Elm!! What the fuck is your problem?!” I shout angrily. I think this dream is getting on my nerves, to say in the least.

“Who are you, kid? Who are you, kid? Who are you, kid?” He’s repeating in the same tone and expression, almost matching my height of voice but making no attempt to stop or say anything else.

When I cease shaking him, he just staggers back to standing motionless again, looking ahead as if nothing happened. I scrunch my face in angry repulsion and back away from him.

Next is Oak.

Out of his mouth slithers an Unown H.

“Who are you, kid?”

I snort. “You know who I am, Professor Oak. We’ve met like 3 times in person, too. Come on, man! What’s with this shit?” I whine, shrugging my hands at him as if I expected him to snap out of it and be like “nah, I’m just fuckin’ with ya dude. How’s it going?”

“Who are you, kid?”

“Yeah, figures.” I grumble, turning away from him.

I look at all the rest of the townsfolk. How much that they say and do the same damn thing?

“Yo, Lance, you fucked up to?” I shout, jogging over to him. At this point, I can’t bring myself to try any harder.

Here comes an O out of his mouth, and of course, my new favorite phrase.

“Who are you, kid?”

“Yeah, yeah, pretend you dunno me. Whatever man, you’re shit.”

Each person down the line is the same. No matter who they are to me, they had an Unown squirm its way sickeningly out of their mouth, and asked who I was.

Out of all the dumb shit in this dream, this is the most unrealistic. Not to brag, but I’m a well-known dude. Especially locally, but also internationally. I’ve battled and  _ won  _ against all these people. No shit they would know who I am!

I stiffly walk up to my own mother. I even say it with her.

“Who are you, kid?”

Not gonna lie, it hurt hearing it in her voice. But… it’s a dream. It does shit like this to fuck with you. Whatever, I’d better keep pushing along this weird ass nightmare. As I get to the north edge of town, I see Unown spray painted on the wall of the gate. Didn’t I already get more than enough of my helping of Unown words this far?

H E L P

I try and place the words together, as if they all fit and spell out something. But unless “Leave Deny Help” is mistranslated from ancient text telling me I’ve got a big storm comin’, it’s just more eerie gibberish to set me on my way. The gate’s doorway is boarded up with plywood, so I come to a stop. I look at the Cyndaquil, and then behind us at the blank faces, unchanged. Do I go back? I’m about to, but my scenery is instantly swapped again.

I’m outside of another gate, also boarded up. Standing in front of me is Red again. He’s staring intently, as if he was waiting for me to notice. Then, he promptly turns and walks until he fades away.

My cyndaquil still needs a PC, but he doesn’t look dire. Even so, I don’t think having him with me is doing me any good. I’m terrified if I keep him, he’ll just end up like his mother. He sleepily looks up at me, and I smile. I set him down gently by the light woods to my left, and tell him to be good.

_ It’s just a dream _ , I tell myself.  _ He’s not going to be swooped up by a predator unless you see it happen _ . But he’s looking at me with such pleading eyes, so concerned with my leaving. I’m all he’s ever known. I’m his mother. I almost want to cry leaving the one good piece from my dream, but I don’t want to watch him get slaughtered by what lays ahead.

“I was trying to...Save you.” The Cyndaquil says, as clear as day.

With that, he ripples away like dispersing vapor.

My Pokedex Buzzes.

“SAVE YOU has forgotten NIGHTMARE!”

I inhale sharply and look forward again, trying to push that bullshittery out of my mind. In the near distance is the menace that started it all, Sprout-fucking-Tower. I head towards the withered building, because there’s nothing-fucking-else. In front of it is it’s sign. On it looks like some graffitti.

Actually... it’s… my name. In  _ my  _ handwriting.

Huh. Weird. I stare at it for a good minute, trying to figure what this little easter egg does. Nothing’s happening, it’s just… weirding me out further the longer I stare.

Upon entering the actual tower, I knew once again it wasn’t right. Even this room has a sense of foreboding. As if I’m really not supposed to be here. Still no stairs, still no doors. The front door doesn’t have an internal handle, so there’s no going back. That’s not really new, though.

As I approach the ever unmoving pillar, there’s a pink Pokemon, rasping on the floor. I approach it cautiously despite its fragile size.

It’s... a shiny celebi, spliced down the center.

Its organs are seeping blood and acids into the wood, barely even being held together by the remaining bone structure. It looks scared, and desperate to see me. Looking into its eye, I see something more than just a morbid sense of dying beauty. Like… I see myself.

In its eye, I see it’s fear and horror, like it’s witnessed everything I’ve had to, and it doesn’t want to press on. I don’t. I never did. If I could shake myself awake, I would. I _ so desperately _ would. The way it’s looking at me, begging with it’s sorry state for me to just turn around and give up. As if I had a  _ choice _ .

At the same time, I think I want to know. I think this Celebi is trying to shield me from it. Something I  _ need  _ to know. Like, I’m about to uncover the meaning of all of this. Good, great, excellent. I just want to wake up and laugh it all off. Or better yet, forget it even fucking happened.

I begin to wander around the room. On the wall to my right, there are small unown carvings, and oozing from them is a dark red stain. I can’t help but look closer, as this seems to be the only constant in this nightmare.

D Y I N G

...I can’t tell if they’re getting better or worse at this point.

I continue to walk along the right wall, and there’s Pokemon statues like those you’d find in a gym, but otherwise nothing new. Remembering the introduction of this dream, I look at the unmoving pillar. And lo, there’s a hollow space, leading to presumably where I have to go next. When I get over, I actually see the room below. It doesn’t look particular or any different.

I repeat the same action of sitting down, and sliding into the narrow opening. When I look around, I feel my eyelids grow heavy with grief. It’s the room I started in. Am I in some weird loop? Is this some sort of sick metaphor for repeating the same actions and getting nowhere? What was the point of all that, then?! Just to wind up back where I fucking started?! Are you fucking shitting me? Am I in goddamn comatose?!

And what, what the fuck am I supposed to do next, huh? Gee, I wonder! Hmm, maybe the walls hold secrets? No, of course not! Still not fucking doors or windows! Same hot box! Same fucking hot box room I woke up in! Nothing to do or see here except this conveniently placed crevice by the unmoving pillar here! Lucky me!! I wonder to where it may lead?? Golly, I don’t have a FUCKING choice!!

I sit down angrily, shove my legs into the hole, and soundlessly throw my body into the same fucking pit.

.

.

.

.

.

.

….But upon landing, I’m not where I expected.

When I open my eyes, I’m in Pokemon Tower, above an unmarked grave. There are no flowers or cards around it. There isn’t even a name. It’s just an ugly, cement plaque sticking out of the ground. The graves just beyond it catch my eye. Instead of scripture, there’s the ever-present unown carvings. 

H E D I E D

Huh. Okay? What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?

The room starts to spin like I’m a top. It’s going so fast I can’t see my surroundings, and I’m in a wooden room again. I think it’s supposed to be Sprout Tower, but the low red light is a new one. Then, I notice my change of attire. Now I’m in a white kimono, like the folks back in Goldenrod. Up close, I notice it’s folded right over left. I guess my mother really did drill that into my head going to festivals.

_ “You want to look like a corpse?” _

In present time, that phrase doesn’t seem so funny.

Ahead of me is a long hallway, kind of like the one in the cellar. The pillar in the center is severed off, like someone took the world’s largest axe and just split it right before it got to the floor above.

It feels just as long as the one below, too. The endless walking on the wood floors in an unchanging hallway grows numbing after a while. It gives me time to think. What is the meaning of all this? What will happen in the end? Will there even be an end, or will I just wake up confused and scared like some sort of night terror? It feels like such a long dream.

I’m so tired… It just all feels useless, the longer I trudge on. Am I just walking to walk? I can’t help but equate this to life itself. Why bother doing anything in life, when in the end, you just… die? My eyelids are growing heavy with these depressing thoughts. Finally, I see people in the distance that snap me back to attention. They’re also adorn with white kimonos, and are as still and as silent as the room. This time, I don’t know these people. But even so, I attempt to greet them.

They look straight past me, as if my presence is just as dead as they seem to be.

There’s an additional man at the end of the hallway, making direct eye contact with me. Even if I look away, I can still feel him watching. He has unreal dark hair, and steady, strong eyes. Above the strikingly white kimono, he looks more ghostly than the rest of them. As I get a little closer, I realize it’s Red again.

Just as I get up to him, he sends out a Pokemon as if we’re engaged in battle. It’s Pika. He looks… sad and malnourished. The shiny half celebi suddenly materializes in front of me. At least it’s level 100 as per my Pokedex, but Pika is… 255.

Pika used Curse.

Obviously I didn’t have a choice in “my” celebi using Perish Song, as that’s all it knew. I hated that move. It was risky, and only used by serious, and usually cruel trainers who didn’t mind if Pokemon really died.

Pika used Flail, and then Frustration. My Celebi took every bit of damage, because again, all it knew was Perish song.

...Or so I thought, because then it used Pain Split.

Pika used Mean Look.

What was the purpose of this battle? Why are we fighting as “ghosts”? 

Perish Song was up.

The Celebi began screaming bloody-fucking-murder, and I watched as its half-corpse started rotting at an alarming rate, eye falling out and bacteria immediately clouding over and shrinking into the floorboards. It’s organs were slipping out and following, expanding and bursting into more mold and bacteria as they collapsed in on themselves.

Not even a stain remained.

Pika used destiny bond, and followed in the same agonizing motion. Shrieking as it’s eyes fell into its sockets and it’s mouth filled with foaming mold, it’s cheeks caved in and ripped off the bone before bursting with puss and being rolled over with bacteria. Its ears were eaten down rapidly as its stomach burst and poured its contents out, the acid immediately eating away the flesh.

I look up at Red. His expression is blank, but it’s still got a harsh, judging sense emitting from it. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but instead, blood pours out. Then it pops out his eyes, and gushes out out his nose and ears. It’s horrible, but I can’t look away. The blood finally comes to a halt, only for Red’s head to easily roll right off his shoulders, and make an empty thump when it’s hits the floor. It rolls over, his empty sockets are gaping at me.

I black out.

When I regain my senses, I notice the temperature has dropped several degrees. My nose recognizes the location before I do.

Fuck.

I’m back in the hellhole. I groan, and it steadily escalated into a full on growl. I kick the wall in frustration. Something lights up to my right, and I spy Hurry, dying on the ground again, as if nothing had occurred from the time I wound up down here. I pick him up and angrily trudge down the corridor.

Nothing’s changed. Stone wall dripping red ooze, Hurry’s fire going steadily out as we make our way down, and the unown are still hammered to my right. The room at the end of the hall is barren except for the stupid fucking factory-made sign. I read it out of spite.

“TuRn BaCk NoW.  _ Yes _ , for the love of Arceus, **YES,** I WOULD LOVE  _ NOTHING MORE _ THAN TO TURN THE  _ FUCK  _ AROUND!” I shout into the emptiness surrounding me.

.

.

.

That’s when I wake up.

I sit up in fear, gasping for breath. I’m… in my bed. I’m in my day clothes again, but I’m in my house, in my room. Everything is calm and quiet. I look around my room, and nothing’s out of the ordinary. I get up and make my way downstairs.

My mom isn’t home, but it’s not like not she’s her own woman with her own life, so I think nothing of it. She left the TV on, though. I go to turn it off, and notice it’s a painfully blue screen with unown sprawled across.

I M D E A D

Heh, what the fuck? I wonder if whatever she was watching had woven its way into my dream. I’m immediately distracted by the flower bouquet on the table. Who could these be from? My mom’s not really a flower person anyway, but we don’t have people that just send us flowers. There’s a white card placed open next to them.

“Sorry for your loss.”

Did my deadbeat dad finally kick the bucket or something? We don’t really have much extended family, and I think both of my known grandparents are dead. It doesn’t really explain why someone would feel the need to send us flowers, but I guess “it’s the thought that counts”. I go back to pick the remote up. It must have slipped through my fingers so loosely. I let out a hollow laugh. It’s kind of like I’m a ghost after that whole nightmare. I shake my head, half-smile on my face, and go to pick it up again.

And again.

And again.

_ And again. _

I feel the smile on my face straining. Tears start to well up in my eyes. My cheeks are getting hot. I  _ know  _ I’m not still dreaming.

I just… wanted to go home.

One last time.

No, no, no, no, no, no,  **_no_ ** .

I’m Gold. I’m from New Bark Town. I got 16 badges, I won against the Elite Four, I even challenged Red. I’m a fucking  _ champion _ .

And…

I finally lost.

No amount of medals or winnings or fame could save me from cruel reality. The fever dream was just me, denying that I could possibly lose. That it could happen to me. But I was a fool. A fucking idiot to think even I could avoid fate.

_ It’s not fair. _

I can help but to cry. I can’t stop, anymore. I keep thinking about the dream, that was never really a dream at all. All that happened in it. It’s almost like I never made a mark, or mattered in the lives of any of these people. It really makes you think if you’re a good person, you know.

What will I be remembered for? What will people tell stories of, to future generations? I wasn’t the best kid. And maybe I was better than Silver, but…. How  _ much  _ better? I was just a snotty little brat who shoved his way around and won some gym battles, thinking the world owed me something.

_ But was I grateful? _

I step solemnly away from the table. I walk calmly to the front door. I turn the handle slowly, and pull the door open.

….It’s just whiteness, as far as the eye can see.

Blank.

Empty.

Despairing.

Tears are rolling down my face, and I think I’m sobbing, but I’m not making any noise. Like the pain has just humbled me mute. I can only go forward, there’s nothing else around me. Eventually, my house is out of sight, disappearing into the milky background like a ghost. I think I might go on like this forever.

I see someone in the distance.

It’s... me.

I can’t bring myself to move any quicker. He turns to face me, watching as I approach. We’re locked in an empty eye contact. His expression looks calm and naive. Someone may describe it as pleasant. He also seems clean, and pure. I can’t say I’ve ever seen myself that way.

“Goodbye, Gold.” He says.

.

.

.

.

.

I’m falling. It’s dark all around me, and if not for the pit in my stomach and the wind in my hair, I wouldn’t even know. I come to, and I know this is reality. No more ghosts, no more dreams.

Cold. Hard. Truth.

I’m in Sprout Tower, lying on the wooden floor.

I… can’t breathe. I’m choking on blood, and it’s pulsing in spurts out of my mouth. I… Can’t see… My… arms… my legs… I’m alone. I’m all alone. No one to know, no one to care.

I was left to bleed out and die.

And so I did.


End file.
